


Caution

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thorin doesn’t take an endangered lover lightly.





	Caution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NordicFlamingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NordicFlamingo/gifts).



> A/N: Gift of nordicflamingo’s “Sometime during the quest, something NEARLY happens to Bofur (he could be separated from the company in a dangerous area, he could be almost hit by an orc spear, he could be close to toppling over a cliff or whatever). Afterwards, angry-because-he-was-scared-to-death-of-losing-his-mate!Thorin won't let him out of his sight. (The important thing isn't the incident in itself, but the aftermath.) Thorin or outsider POV” for donating to the Red Cross for [my carma commissions](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/167176922380/karma-commissions).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarillion or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His broad fingers trace from one map to another, following the long-faded paths of the northern mountains. The maps here are different than the ones still treasured in the Blue Mountains, kept in honour of Erebor’s past, but Dale didn’t fare quite so well. Still, Thorin pours over what they have. Too many times, he’s stormed in without a plan, and if they’re to make it through the final stretch of their journey, he wants to be better prepared. He has to be. He won’t run the risk of losing his One again.

In the corner of his vision, he sees Bofur rise from a seat across the sitting room, getting up and chattering away with Nori—their bubbling laughter pulls him out of his reverie. He keeps his eyes mostly on the short table pulled up to the couch, trying to focus on his plotting, until he realizes where the two of them are headed.

Just as Nori opens the front door, Thorin snaps up and calls, “Where’re you going?”

Nori freezes, mouth falling open in surprise, but Bofur just frowns. He answers easily, “We were going to go shopping for supplies.”

Thorin’s nose wrinkles. It burns to accept such charity from a village so battered and haggard as Laketown, but he has little choice. The journey’s been one nightmare after another, draining every resource they once had. He nods as though understanding and suggests, “Nori can go with Balin.”

Before Nori can protest, Bofur counters, “Or he could go with me.”

Thorin narrows his eyes, and Nori shifts uneasily, but Bofur only meets his gaze. Not challengingly, just unafraid. Finally, Thorin all but growls, “I’ve made my position clear.” And maybe it’s not his decision, but he knows none of his company would outright defy him. 

He’s proven right when Bofur sighs and wanders over to him. Nori shrugs and shuts the door again, heading back towards the stairs where he can find another half a dozen dwarves that might go with him. Bofur might be his best friend, but Bofur’s also _Thorin’s_.

Bofur comes to plop down onto the other side of the couch, sinking heavily down into the cushions. His pleasant face is more somber than usual, lacking the carefree joy that’s so often drawn Thorin to him. But Thorin’s nothing if not stubborn and makes no move to apologize.

He returns to his maps as Nori’s footsteps disappear onto the second landing. Left alone in the sitting room, Bofur tells him, “I was hardly going to run off with Nori.”

“Didn’t think you would,” Thorin grunts. Jealousy had nothing to do with it. He offhandedly explains, “It’s just dangerous out there.”

“In Laketown?” Bofur snorts, almost laughs. 

“In this world,” Thorin corrects. “We’re no safer here, spread out with our defenses down, than we were in the woods, all our talents pooled together and our warrior’s senses on alert.” In his peripherals, Thorin can see Bofur tensing. He glances over, and the thick frown he finds softens him a fraction. He goes on, quieter, “After everything we’d been through, I’d thought we could handle it. ...But I had to watch one of those eight-legged beasts pierce your neck, and I saw you fall right to my feet. You didn’t move. And even when the madness had cleared and I realized that you weren’t _gone_ , not entirely, the elves came and dragged you away from me before I could be sure that you would recover. I thought...” He chokes on the rest and doesn’t say it. He thought he’d never hear another of Bofur’s songs again, never get to help him twist in those handsome braids, never get to lie with him beneath the stars. The fear of that is too much to relive, so Thorin swallows it back and drowns it out in _anger_.

He hisses, “I won’t let you out of my sight,” and reaches over to place his hand on Bofur’s thigh. It’s good to feel Bofur’s warmth beneath him. He squeezes once. Bofur stares back into him.

It takes a moment for Bofur to let out a large breath, relax his shoulders, and murmur, “Thorin... I _did_ recover. And you hardly need to guard me every minute. I’m not instrumental to the quest. I’m not even—”

“You’re instrumental to me,” Thorin fiercely insists. “And I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

Bofur hesitates. For a moment, Thorin thinks he’ll laugh—he’ll point out that they still have a _dragon_ to overcome and nothing is certain. But Bofur only dons a sad smile, still beautiful even in its pain, and drops a hand over Thorin’s. He holds on and promises, “Fine. I’ll stay here, if it makes you feel better—cramped up in this little house with you. ...But can I at least be out of your sight long enough to go upstairs and fetch my pipe, so that I might relax in my captivity?”

Thorin begrudgingly nods and makes no note of Bofur’s gentle teasing. Even if he’s overstepping, he appreciates Bofur placating him. Now, near the end of their journey, where the stakes are at their highest, Thorin couldn’t handle the possibility of losing his One again. 

When Bofur lifts off the couch, he pauses to lean in and give Thorin’s cheek a chaste peck. Thorin knows better than to chase a deeper kiss—if they start that now, Bofur won’t get his pipe, and Thorin won’t get a stitch of planning done.

Bofur mumbles, “Be right back—so don’t panic.” And Thorin rolls his eyes as Bofur heads back to their room.


End file.
